


Maled[I]ctum

by MeetTheTank



Series: Overdose Delusion [3]
Category: NieR: Automata (Video Game)
Genre: A2 has big guilt, Blood and Gore, F/M, Hallucinations, Hurt/Comfort, Nightmares, Post-Ending E (NieR: Automata), Robogore, bloodborne refrences, i understand horny priorities, little bit of eldritch nonsense, the smut is in chapter 2 for those who are impatient
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-03-29
Updated: 2019-06-19
Packaged: 2019-12-26 10:42:31
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 2
Words: 15,453
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/18281306
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/MeetTheTank/pseuds/MeetTheTank
Summary: "A bottomless curse. A bottomless sea. Source of all greatness, all things that be."A strange wreckage washes up on the shores near the City Ruins and A2 is sent to investigate.





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

  * Inspired by [B[E]stiam](https://archiveofourown.org/works/11907945) by [MeetTheTank](https://archiveofourown.org/users/MeetTheTank/pseuds/MeetTheTank). 



The day the hulking machine carcass washed ashore was bedlam. No one expected something of that size to simply appear on the shore without anyone picking it up on their patrols. The Resistance androids scrambled around, trying to delegate who would shoulder the other’s daily tasks so that an investigation team could be assembled. 9S pleaded with 2B to abandon their work to go look for themselves, but 2B remained steadfast against it, no matter how much he pouted.

Just when Anemone reaches the end of her rope, A2 appears with a bag of the latest materials scavenged from the deeper parts of the forest.

“Uh...did I miss something?” she asks, setting the sack down on Anemone’s table.

“You’re timing is as perfect as ever, Number 2. I need you to investigate something...strange.”

“Isn’t that his job?” she jabs her thumb in the direction of 9S, still pleading with 2B.

“If they didn’t already have something to do, yes. But I need you to take a look at something that washed up on the beach this morning.”

“Uh...What?”

“We’re not sure where it’s from, but it looks like part of a huge machine lifeform.”

“Like the dead one that’s out on the ocean?”

“That’s just it,” Anemone says with a sigh, “We need to know if it’s part of something else we don’t know about, or just the dead goliath falling to pieces.”

“Got it. I’ll contact you when I reach it.”

They exchange a brief goodbye before A2 leaves the camp, with 9S immediately rushing up to complain to Anemone about her poor choice of investigator.

* * *

In the past months, bordering on a whole year now, since the fall of the tower. Life had been easing into a semblance of peace as the machines had all either died or turned non hostile, mindlessly wandering or coming together in groups. A2 found herself in the difficult position of...well, being alive. After her fight to the death, she felt rather silly. It made her few confrontations with 9S...awkward when they weren’t outright hostile. She kept away from the Resistance camp when she could, preferring instead to stay in the Forest Zone.

And consequently, near 4S.

A2 had encounters with him before, but only brief ones. He gradually took over the old castle, converting it into a base of sorts. He was the only inhabitant, save for a few aimless machines, the blacksmith machine, and more recently A2 herself. It only started as infrequent visits, a few odd job, but soon she found herself spending more time in the castle than anywhere else.

4S was more than welcoming, he even set up a room of her own with a bed and everything. He helped repair her, going as far as to replace the large patches of skin that had fallen off over the years. The seams are still dissipating, hidden under a thin shirt and shorts. Part of the deal of her getting new skin was having to wear something. Especially after nearly giving 4S an overload one day.

What bothers A2 the most, is she can’t seem to place why he’s done these things for her, beyond genuine kindness.

He even listened, quietly and comfortingly, to her stories of the Pearl Harbor decent….and Number 4.

It makes her feel….weird.

Not in a bad way, it’s strangely pleasant.

The hulking shape on the beach makes her feel….weird.

A bad way.

Anemone was right in her vague description, A2 can’t tell what this mass of metal and the remnants of sea life was supposed to be. The sheets of rusted metal and electronic parts look familiar to her, but what would be defining features are covered in...organic matter. Some of it looks like seaweed or kelp but there are unnerving patches of what appears to be flesh. Bulbous and pale, blood long since drained from its source. It sticks to the metal as if it were meant to be there.

The whole wreckage itself steams like a fresh animal carcass, filling the already heavy sea air with the stench of...something A2 can’t place. She’s been around dead androids, machines, and animals. This doesn’t smell like any of those, it’s far too...salty. It stings her eyes and for the first time in a long while, she finds herself missing her old combat visor. It at least kept shit out of her eyes.

She shakes her head and refocuses on her task, pulling up a screen and contacting Anemone.

“A2, what’s the situation.” she says with a surprising amount of authority.

“Well,” A2 begins, “It’s...something.”

“Any idea what it is?”

“Not a damn clue. It looks like a pile of machine garbage and...organic...stuff. I’m gonna get a closer look at it, see if there’s anything inside it.”

“Okay, be careful.”

“Will do.”

The call ends with a swipe of A2’s hand. Taking a deep breath, she carefully navigates the rocky slope down to the beach proper. She stumbles over the tide-worn stones and rubble that make up the shore, like most shores near ruined metropolises. Some androids said that beaches were supposed to have sand, but she has yet to actually see that. Besides, sand is obnoxious. There’s enough of it in the desert, it doesn’t need to be near the ocean.

The closer A2 gets to the wreckage, the more intimidated she becomes. It’s one thing to see it from far away. It’s another to stand in its rotting shadow. There have been very few times where A2 has felt dwarfed by anything. Once, when she was adrift at sea for nearly a year after the Pearl Harbor Decent, and once while ascending the tower nearly a year ago. This is closer to the sinking dread she felt while stranded in the ocean. She shakes her head, it’s absurd to be feeling like this while standing on semi dry land.

Her foot kicks against something, startling her out of her thoughts. A pile of rocks comes apart and scatters in all directions. Again, she chastizes herself for being startled by something stupid. However as she tracks the stones, she notices something...odd.

It’s not just random piles of stone, they’re built, stacked in little towers about a foot high in a line from the shore to the wreckage. A2 immediately reaches for her Type-4O Blade hovering behind her as she realizes she’s not alone. Another sound reaches her over the sound of the surf, something dragging through the stones of the beach. She follows the line of little rock towers towards the sound.

A shambling shape near a hole in the wreckage catches her eye. A machine, a medium biped, drags its heavy leg in a limp. It wears something over its head, some kind of dirty white cloth that flutters in the ocean breeze. A2 stalks up behind it to gauge if it’s a threat or not. Since the fall of the tower there have been very few hostile machines, but years of combat have taught her the hard way to never let her guard down.

It doesn’t take notice of her, even though she’s not being particularly stealthy. The shroud it wears covers its eyes, which upon further inspection are covered entirely with gnarled barnacles, rendering it totally blind. In fact most of its body is covered with shelled sea life, its joints grinding against the rust and shells clinging to it. She tapps its arm to see if she can provoke a reaction. A mechanical growl she expects.

She does not expect it to start speaking.

“....Androids…” Its harsh voice grates her ears, “...YoRHa….Blasphemous murderers….Blood crazed f-fiends…”

A2 recoils from the strange machine, that sinking feeling returning in the pit of her gut.

It makes a corrupted sound, almost like its coughing. A wet sound, despite it not having any biological components within it, “Atonement for the wretches...by the wrath of M-...”

It stops in its tracks and sinks to the ground, its rust crusted fingers sifting through the stones, “Mercy….Mercy for the poor wizened children…”

Again it coughs, the sound so...real that A2 believes it’s about to vomit seawater, “Lay the curse upon them...Each wretched automaton will be plunged into a lifetime of misery…”

The temptation to end this strange machine’s life makes A2’s hand twitch. It’s as if the thing is accusing her, specifically, for the deaths of its brethren. Which...might not be entirely false. She’s killed a lot of machines in her six years of life. It’s that realization that stays A2’s hand. For now. The little machine is none the wiser, she thinks. Its attention is locked onto its growing pile of rocks, nearly identical to the twenty or so A2 had passed.

It’s a surprise to herself that she leaves the machine to its piles. She didn’t come here to kill machines, even ones that curse her for her sins.

A dread chill runs down her spine as she pushes her way past a curtain of drying kelp. Cool air carries the foul stench of rotting flesh and steaming entrails of a fresh kill, enough to make her double back outside to gag. A deep gulp of sea air later and she’s back inside.

A2’s been inside wreckages of massive carriers before while scavenging for supplies. Most of her life, in fact, has been shaped by one set of ruins or another. Aside from the abundance of plant life, dubious organic material, and oppressive smell of rot, it might as well be some old world garbage dredged up by the ocean. It creaks and groans just like an old ship, it looks like an old ship, it might as well be an old ship filled with dead organics.

So why can’t she shake this dread that claws at her gut and ices her black box. Gazing up at the ceiling nearly a mile high, with only the sunlight filtering through the countless holes in the hull to light the interior, she feels...small. If this was some part of a marine machine...just how big was the whole thing?

Staring down the gaping maw of a cavern leading further in, A2 finds herself missing Pod 042. Since its original owner was resurrected, it returned to her, and as much as A2 did not miss the thing’s constant proposals and queries, she did miss the utilities such as a flashlight and a map. 4S still had a pod, though, and she curses herself for not making the extra trip to borrow it. She would just have to make do with her built in low light vision and old fashioned memory.

Beyond the first cavity, more like the cavern due to its immense size, a series of twisting tunnels and branching paths weave through the groaning rusted structure. Large tunnels split into smaller and smaller paths, some so small that A2 can barely fit through. For her own sake, she sticks to the largest structures, leaving large slashes in the wall to mark her progress. Outside of the branches, it’s a simple tunnel like one of the sewer pipes beneath the city ruins with very few turns and bends.

She guesses that she’s about a half a mile in the wreckage, with nothing much out of the ordinary besides the odd creaking and oppressive atmosphere. A fog begins to form the further in she does, obscuring her vision slightly. Nothing she hasn’t dealt with before. The forest gets so humid sometimes it feels like walking through oil. This is close with the smells of rot bearing weight along with the humidity.

Her stomach drops when she scores a pillar of rusted metal, only to have a strange...slime coat the end of her blade. A thick mucus like substance, the color of which she can’t discern in the low light, drips down her sword. Touching the pillar herself reveals just how sticky the substance is. The whole membrane pulls away from the metal slightly before snapping back and rippling like a liquid. It isn’t often that A2 is put up against something that she’s never seen before but this is just...weird.

Rather than lingering on strange goo, she presses on. All she wants to do is get at least a basic layout of the largest internal structures for Anemone and whoever draws the short straw to break this thing down for scrap. Though how much is actually usable is hard to say. All of the metal is either rusted and a stiff breeze away from falling apart, or covered in flesh and slime.

A strange, putrid gust of wind rushes from deep within the wreckage. It surprises A2 enough for her to jump back and swing her sword at nothing in particular. She immediately chastises herself for getting spooked by the fucking wind. Maybe this place is starting to mess with her head. The sea winds blowing through the countless openings and holes and corridors in the wreck makes it sound like someone...or something is whispering just a few feet away from her. Turning back and telling Anemone that there’s nothing worth looking for in here begins to sound like a better and better idea, but at this point turning back would take longer than just going through to the other end.

She begins to feel...tired, suddenly. As if she’s been carrying a heavy weight for a long time. Again and again, she shakes the fatigue away, but it comes roaring back only moments later. She takes deep, heaving breaths, trying to get any fresh air she can in her lungs. Her pace slows to a crawl and the humidity has caused a thin layer of moisture to form over her skin and make her clothes cling to her body.

A2 sinks to her knees, needing just a moment to regain some strength to press forward. She reaches a hand out to steady herself on what she thinks to be an iron beam, but instead of gritty rusted metal, she grasps something taught, slimy, and strangely elastic. As she rises to her feet, she plucks at it like the string of a musical instrument. It sticks to the metal floor, and extends far up where she assumes it connects to the ceiling, but the thick fog makes it difficult to see….when did it become that thick? It wasn’t like that a moment ago.

This place is definitely starting to play tricks on her…

Rust is replaced with mucus, metal with flesh, and soon A2 wonders when she left the wrecked machine creature and entered the belly of a great sea beast. Her feet dig into the soft, sticky substance that began replacing the ground a few yards back. It catches against her foot and holds fast, like stepping in a patch of deep mud. She feels if she stays in one place for too long, the ground itself will begin to swallow her whole.

Faint rays of sunlight filter through a curtain of mucus and unidentifiable viscera, and A2’s determination is renewed. Finally, she’d be out of this strange nightmare...thing. She’s had enough of bizarre flesh for years. Forever. She’d go back to the Resistance camp, tell Anemone to keep everyone away, willingly take a bath, and let this damn corpse rot in the sun. She pushes her way through the curtain of organic sludge, holding her breath in anticipation of a fresh sea breeze…

...that never comes.

The sunlight she didn’t imagine at least, a large hole in the side of the wreckage overlooks the ocean and lets both light and the surf into the hull. But the sunlight is wrong, filtered through a great, translucent orb suspended in the air by countless tendons and ligaments. It bathes the cavity in a sickly pale yellow, and illuminates a shape writhing subtly within its gelatinous casing. It looks almost like an egg without its shell, and stinks just as bad as one too.

A2 can’t decide if she’s more repulsed or awed by this enormous pulsating, fleshy, repulsive...thing. There’s undoubtedly a sort of horrific beauty to it, but it is in essence, a colossal womb suspended in the air. She’s...transfixed by it, the way it pulses and ripples like liquid and still retains its shape.

For a reason she can’t quite place, she touches it with the very tip of her sword to the bottom-

* * *

It isn’t unusual for A2 to be gone for days at a time, but 4S worries regardless. Her maintenance habits are something to be desired, though they’re certainly better than when she first starting hanging around his camp. She at least wears clothes, and doesn’t pick at the skin graft seams as much. That being said, most of the time he has to remind her to perform any kind of self care routines such as bathing.

Usually A2 hangs around certain spots in the forest zone or commercial facility. She rarely if ever goes to the Resistance’s Main camp within the city ruins barring some specific errand. That’s the stomping ground of two androids she doesn’t get along with very well, but 4S considers good friends. So having exhausted her usual hangouts, he approaches the camp hoping to find some lead what A2’s been up to for the past three days.

The first few androids he greets haven’t heard anything about A2, but 9S grumbles on about how she got to go and investigate something interesting that washed up on the beach a while ago. Concern flashes across his face briefly before he snorts and takes a jab at A2’s tendency to “play in the dirt for days”. 2B relays similar information, though offers to help look for A2, which 4S respectfully declines.

All this leads him to Anemone, the last android A2 spoke to according to the others.

“Ah, 4S. Good to see you.” the resistance leader says with a nod, “What brings you here? Everything all right in the Forest Zone?”

“Nothing to report.” he begins, “I actually wanted to ask you something.”

“Oh? What can I help you with.”

“A2’s been gone for a while. Not that it’s unusual for her to run off for a bit, I just get worried is all. Any idea where she might have gone?”

“Yes. You might have heard about the unknown wreckage that washed up on the northern beach?”

“Nothing beyond that it happened?”

“I asked her to give it a look, but it’s been three days. I plan on deploying a small rescue team in a few hours, just have to pull some folks together.”

4S shakes his head, “She gets freaked out when too many people come after her at once. I’ll go.”

“Are you sure? We have no idea what kind of threats A2’s found in there.”

“I’ll call if I get into trouble, but if I’m not back by the end of the day, send a squad. Okay?”

“Deal.” Anemone says with a quick nod, “Be careful, 4S.”

“Always am.”

 

* * *

_Plip…._

_Plop…._

_Splish…._

_Splash…._

_Drip…._

A2 awakes to the gentle sound of running water and something constricting her body, like a second skin. She sits bolt upright the moment she regains control of herself, the familiar sound of creaking leather and ruffling of thick fabrics alerting her to the odd clothes she now wears.

“What the hell…”

Leather boots come up to her knees, disappearing under an ornate black skirt. Her hands are covered with white gloves, and a visor covers her eyes and displays a rudimentary HUD.

“This is…”

She tugs at the seams of her old YoRHa uniform. As pristine as the day she was deployed.

“Impossible…”

Panic begins to set in. She has no memory of what she was doing before she...passed out? Fell asleep? Why was she on a beach? Why wasn’t the ocean not making any noise? Wasn’t the surf supposed to feel colder than that?

“A2!!”

Her body seizes up at the voice of a long dead ghost. Something locks her joints in place. Fear? No, she’s not afraid...A2 wants nothing more than to turn around and see her face again but…

Something’s wrong…She can’t place it but this doesn’t feel-...

“Come on A2 what are you doing?”

She shoves A2 lightly, playfully, forcing her to turn and stare Number 4 right in the face.

Soft, round features, jet black hair pulled back in a loose ponytail, and a visor that reveals one deep green eye. Number 4 crouches over A2 and places a hand on her shoulder, a feeling so familiar it twists her insides into knots.

“You okay, Number 2? You look really shaken up.”

No doubt about it now...it’s her voice…

“Y-...” a response rises in her throat like bile, “Yeah I’m...I’m fine.”

Number 4 pulls her to her feet with that patient smile A2 was so fond of, “You should be more careful! That fall must have hurt.”

“F-...fall?” A rush of memories further clouds her mind. That’s right…

Being a mediocre soldier, she was prone to stumbling over the uneven rubble of buildings. There was once where she took a spill off the top of a sloped roof and into the ocean. Number 4 made fun of her for days before-...

“Come on, Number 2. The others are waiting for us.”

Sure enough, once A2 tears her eyes off Number 4, she sees the rest of the squad waving to them from the rooftops. Number 21...Number 16...everyone’s...okay?

This isn’t...this can’t…

“Number 2?” Number 4 looks at her with her head tilted to the side.

“Yeah I’m-...”

Again, her body refuses to move. Her legs feel weighted, or bolted to the ground. She tries to call after Number 4 as she begins to walk away, but her throat closes up as she tries to force her name out. It’s hot...it’s so hot in this goddamn uniform. If she could make her body move she’d claw at the ornate fabrics.

_Drip…_

  
_Drop…._

Her head throbs in time with the pulsing of her black box and a high pitched whine rings in her ears. This is wrong...why does it feel wrong? Why can’t she move? Why doesn’t the ocean sound like the ocean? It’s not supposed to sound like a leaking faucet.

The other squad members hop down from the rooftops onto the beach. A terrible feeling tears at her paralyzed body. It’s familiar, far too familiar. The feeling of being surrounded. Trapped. Cornered…

This shouldn’t be. These are her friends, her old squad. There’s no reason for her to feel like they’d attack any moment.

Their vacant stares and stiff movements tell her otherwise.

“Hey...Number 2? Come on what are you doing?”

A2’s eyes lock on Number 4...or what is pretending to be Number 4. Her breaths are rapid and heavy, her vision clouding with static and dead pixels.

“Y-...” The words stick in her throat, like a hand gripping her neck and squeezing the life out of her.

Number 21’s mouth moves, and though no words escape, A2 can clearly read what she’s saying.

_Splish…_

  
_Splash…_  
_Plip…._

 

 

  
_Plop…._

The others circle around A2. Every system in her body screams at her to move, to fight or to run, but she remains locked in place. The surf laps at her ankles and its cursed unnatural sound threatens to drive her mad. The same sound that’s carried on the voices of her comrades.

_Drip…._

 

 

 

 

_Drop…._

“You...died. I watched you die!” A2 chokes. The words feel like cement in her throat.

_Splish…._

 

 

 

_splash..._

“I watched all of you die!”

 

 

_Slip…_

 

 

 

_Slop..._

At first, Number 4 looks startled, but then a sinister grin warps her features.

 

 

 

_Plip…._

 

 

 

 

 

“You’re right.”

 

 

 

 

 

 

_Plop..._

 

 

 

 

 

“And it’s all your fault.”

A powerful wave crashes into A2’s legs, knocking them out from under her and sending her crashing down into the surf. Water rushes up to cover her face, roaring in her ears and filling her mouth and nose. She gasps and sputters for air, but each time she clears saltwater from her airways, it only opens up the way for more. Panic surges through her systems, forcing the paralyzed motor functions to work. Her fingers scramble for purchase on the beach while her legs kick and dig into the ground. Countless warnings and alerts flash in her vision and blare in her ears, mixing with the roar of the sea to create a deafening sound that dominates her senses.

The loose silt beneath the water makes it difficult to find leverage, but it’s only an extra second before A2 plants her hands beside her and forces herself above the surf. Just as she fills her lungs with air, something sharp digs into her shoulders and drags her back down. She fights against it, but two more attach themselves to her. The more she struggles, the more hooks pierce her skin and pull.

There’s pressure on her hips, covering either side of her. The surf recedes for a moment just long enough for her to see Number 4, straddling her hips.

“Wh-”

A2 tries to speak, to scream, but the surf rushes back into her mouth before she can get more than a syllable out.

Another set of hooks pulls at her stomach, two on either side. They tear through her old uniform and pierce the hidden seams of her skin. A frantic glance down reveals that they’re not simple hooks. They’re hands. Disembodied hands tipped with pointed claws sprout out of the ground and through the bloodied saltwater to hold her down as Number 4 smirks above her.

“No running away now.” Number 4 says directly into A2’s mind.

Number 4 leans down, close to A2’s face. Every single sensory function that still works screams at her to run, to get far away from the danger disguised as her dead friend, but she cannot move. She cannot shout. She can’t scream or cry or curse or fight.

A2 can only watch in horror, as Number 4 plunges her hands through the center of her chest.

Carving through layers of fabric, synthetic skin, and two layers of carbon armor, Number 4’s hands worm through A2’s body till they reach the cavity of crucial components. Claws ease through the protective cage of hardened carbon as if it were merely flesh and sinew, and just when the paralyzing agony reaches a peak, she pulls to the side. A2’s chest cavity is forced open so easily it’s as if Number 4 is opening a shellfish, exposing the delicate components to the surf and sand.

One by one Number 4, and eventually each one of her fallen squadmates, remove component after component and all A2 can do is silently scream as she’s torn apart by hands she’s lost track of. Yet despite missing these crucial pieces of herself she still continues to function. She still continues to live when all she craves is the release of death. When they’ve cleaned out her chest, they tear open her stomach, removing lengths and lengths of tubing and wiring and casting it aside like garbage.

The strength to struggle, to scream or protest leaves A2 a limp, placid heap of cybernetics and parts quietly downing in the surf. Number 4’s lips move, all of their lips move, trying to say something to her, but no words reach her ears over the sounds of roaring water and static.

Number 4 presses a finger to the corner of A2’s eye and pushes in-

* * *

“A curse here….A curse there…”

4S watches the strange shrouded machine sit on its knees, its round head turned up towards the sky as if in prayer.

“A curse for he...for she...Why care?”

The machine sits surrounded by piles of stone arranged in little towers. 4S has seen machines construct useless things before, but there’s something...unnerving about these towers. It’s silly, they’re just piles of rocks. Hell, he’s built similar things while sitting on the riverbanks with A2, but not in the amount that this machine has.

“A bottomless curse...a bottomless sea. Source of all greatness, all things that be...”

4S has heard machines recite mantras or prayers before, typically repeating phrases from ancient human texts and holy books.

The machine’s shrouded head turns towards 4S, its barnacle encrusted eyes staring in two different directions, “Listen...Listen for the baneful chants. Listen...as one in trance. And….Weep with us...oh...weep with us…”

Its voice wavers uncannily, like it’s on the verge of tears. A pang of sympathy shoots through 4S’ heart. Has he heard a machine cry? ...Can they cry? He commands the silent Pod 035 to begin recording this phenomenon for later study.

While the machine gurgles as if it has a mouth full of seawater, 4S glances around the outside of the massive wreck for any sign of A2. It’d take him hours, maybe days depending on how complex it is on the inside, to search the thing from top to bottom. He needs to find a starting point, or narrow his view down to a smaller area and go from there.

Perhaps this cloaked machine knows something…

“Hey,” 4S says, tapping it on the head, “Hey can you hear me.”

It doesn’t respond beyond the quiet sloshing of water.

“Okay...Sorry about this.”

He reaches his hand out just a few inches away from the machine’s head. Pale yellow light sprouts from his palm as a hacking interface manifests and 4S is launched into the familiar digital landscape of a machine’s mind.

Or it would be familiar, if it wasn’t inundated with water.

4S never thought he would describe a hacking space as wet, but this machine’s cyberspace was under a constant heavy rain to the point where water pools around various nodes and defense systems. A half hearted troop of enemy cursors attempts to stop him as his cursor approaches the machine’s recent memory storage. He counts himself lucky that this seems to be as tough as it gets, since he’s not the prolific hacker 9S is. The cube like fragments of fallen defense programs fall to the floor instead of evaporating, sending little ripples through the water collected in puddles beneath him.

He accesses the recent memory data, both audio and visual, just as easily. Ruined sections of framework sit against the pure white of hacking space like the city ruins. Was there a more complex defense network that simply rotted away? He had never heard of a machine’s network decaying like this but the evidence is too obvious to ignore.

The machine’s memories play out in front of him, and as 4S expected, it’s mostly it stacking stones one on top of the other only for the tide to knock them over. The only thing he’d consider odd about it would be the sound of the ocean. It seems...too quiet. Perhaps there’s a malfunction with it’s aural systems that has gone undiagnosed.

Suddenly, a figure comes into view.

“A2!”

The memory is dated just three days ago and tinged with an intense loathing towards her. Not just her, but androids as a whole. But if this anger is so strong, why didn’t the machine attack either of them? It must know it doesn’t stand a chance against even 4S, with its rusted joints and rotting hacking space. A machine that understands futility…

He watches as A2 enters a hole in the wreckage facing the beach. For a few hours, the memories return to the stones, until a horrific scream rips through the beachfront. It looks up to see a brilliant flash of light from the far side of the wreckage, and a deep sadness colors the memories.

4S bails from the hacking space with tears running down his face. Barely pausing to wipe the salt water from his eyes he bolts in the direction of the light from the memory with his Pod floating behind him. Waves crash into his legs, threatening to topple him, but he trudges through the surf and loose gravel of the beach.

Pod 035 whirrs alarmingly and places a marker on his map display, only a few yards away from him. Just around the eastern end of the wreckage a gaping hole opens out into the water. According to his Pod’s marker, A2’s signal was just through there. 4S dashes into the hull-

-and immediately dives behind a sizable pile of scrap metal.

The smell of rotting flesh and stagnant seawater, the obscene wet sounds of soaked organic matter hitting itself, the unknown cold that grips his stomach in icy fingers, it all falls by the wayside as he stares at the creature gazing out to the sun and sea.

It’s android shaped, lacking the rigid geometric design of machines, yet distinctly un-android. No synthetic skin covers its body, instead a heap of what appears to be organic materials hangs from half formed ligaments on various places of its body and collects down its malformed left arm. A mass the size of 4S attached to its left arm sits on the ground and is covered in what appears to be sores or pustules. The organic growth glistens like wet flesh and writhes eerily, as if it’s alive. It has no torso, only a series of components that form a crude imitation of a spine connecting its chest to its skinless pelvis.

A trail of thick mucus leads from the machine to a larger pool in the center of the cavity. Above that, an empty sack-like organ hangs from the ceiling, dripping with even more of the sickly yellow slime.

Just beyond the strange organ an android sits on their knees, gazing up at the creature and the sun behind it. Their heavy breathing echoes through the chamber and occasionally they sputter and gasp as if they’re drowning. The tall machine creature turns its head at their sound, its yellow eyes flickering as it studies the android. Its joints grind together as it saunters towards the hypnotized android, dragging the mass on its arm behind it.

Fear for the android nearly makes 4S leap to their rescue, but common sense keeps him rooted in place. Rushing headlong into danger is something Attacker and Battle types, not something Scanner types are made to do (yet something they do anyway). If the creature wanted to hurt the android, it would have done so already. It stands above them, cocking its head to one side and then the other.

Pod 035 makes the objective marker flash on his map once more, accompanied by a quiet chirp. The position is updated slightly, now saying that A2’s signal comes from that entranced android being studied by the skinless machine.

“Shit...A2…”

The machine grasps A2 in its unburdened hand, its clawed fingers wrapping around her neck and shoulders and lifting her up to its eye level. 4S has always considered himself logical, slow to act, and never one to rush into battle. Yet the moment he sees that...thing make motions towards A2, his body acts on pure instinct. Something tells every function in his chassis that A2 was in grave danger.

With as strong a roar as he can muster, he charges out from his hiding place.

“Get away from her!!”

The machine jerks its head towards 4S just in time to see the steel blade fly at its face. It screeches, drops A2 into the muck, and leaps backward into the surf. He grabs at her shoulders, or whatever he can hold on to, and drags her back as far as he can before his grip falters.

“A2? ...A2?!”

She doesn’t give any kind of response, just that dead eyed stare. He glances back at the machine humanoid, which hisses and screeches at him but makes no move to attack. Yet. He shakes her shoulders lightly at first, but grows rougher and rougher has he becomes more panicked.

“A2! Come on, wake up!!”

In a moment of blind hysteria, he balls his fist and slams it into the side of her jaw. Something shifts painfully in his hand accompanied by a dull throb. He grits his teeth through the pain, but it’s all momentary. As soon as A2’s eyes focus on him, confused and furious, all he can feel is relief.

“4S?! What the hell?!” she shouts, shoving him off only to be forced back down by his own hand.

“We can talk later! Right now you need to stay down! It might not register you as a threat…”

“What?! 4S don’t you-”

As she tries to stand up, his hand shoves her back down before he scrambles to his feet. 4S calls his sword back to his hand and smashes it against the ground as he runs towards the furious creature.

“Over here!” he shouts, throwing a rock at the machine’s head.

It lets out an uncanny scream and launches itself at 4S, slamming the crescent shaped growth on its arm down just inches from him. He scrambles backwards, the impact alone rattling his carbon bones. The machine doesn’t give him a split second to recover. It rushes forward, pulling the club-like growth upward with devastating speed.

4S turns tail and sprints away from the machine in an attempt to put some distance between them. Pod 035 fires a volley of bullets that ricochet off its body and only serves to make the creature even more furious. So long as its attention is off of A2 enough for her to get back on her feet, then he can keep up this chase.

He knows he’s not a fighter, that the most he can do is lob Pod fire and occasionally throw his sword. It’s not going to stop him from protecting A2 in any way he can. The creature leaps into the air and swings its growth downwards and 4S side-steps, but the growth comes loose and slams directly into his chest. He’s launched backwards, something shifting inside him painfully before he crashes into the surf. Water rushes into his mouth as he gasps for air.

The disturbing machine gives 4S no time to recover, forcing him to barely avoid a furious barrage of crushing attacks. Each time it attacks it lets out a horrific metallic shriek, and each time it shrieks the grating sound overloads his aural processors. His hearing degrades faster than it can be repaired, leaving him with crackling static, dissonant white noise, and the roar of the ocean.

Pod 035 activates the Hammer program at 4S’ command, producing a large glowing bludgeon that hovers just above the pair. The machine halts its attack and stares at them with searing red eyes, as if it’s sizing them up or waiting for their next move. Mustering his courage and what little strength that hasn’t been knocked out of him, 4S grabs hold of Pod’s chassis and rushes headlong at the machine creature. It charges as well, raising its growth high above its head with an ear splitting scream. The moment it’s within range, 4S plants his feet in the gravel and flesh, and swings Pod 035 and the hard light projection with all his might. His eyes shut reflexively at the moment of impact, his whole body rattling with the force of the blow. He shifts his balance in anticipation for the follow through, but it never comes.

4S cracks one eye open. The monster met his blow with one of its own, locking the golden hammer in place with its oblong, semi-organic weapon. It leans close to him, close enough for 4S to feel its acrid breath on his face, count each of its jagged teeth. Its tongue dangles limply where its lower jaw would be, splashing flecks of oil onto 4S’ face.

A deafening crack sounds from the hammer, then a second, followed closely by a third and a fourth. Pod 035 flashes a warning just before the hard light weapon shatters before him. The machine rears back and slams its own bludgeon down on 4S once, twice, then picks him up by the back of his shirt and throws him across the cave as if he weighs nothing. He tumbles and bounces a few feet before landing next to A2.

His whole body throbs in time with the beating of his synthetic heart, amplifying the pain of the torn muscles and displaced bones. A sharp ache stabs from inside his chest cavity as his black box strains itself to keep his body conscious and operational. Merely gritting his teeth to bite back a scream causes him agonizing pain, and even the soft weight of A2’s worried hands does nothing to alleviate any of it.

He’s never seen her so...afraid before.

Yet despite the pain, 4S forces himself to his feet. If he gives up, both he and A2 will be killed by this abomination, or meet a worse fate. However it isn’t the thought of his own death that frightens him, but A2’s.

It’s completely irrational, but there’s a warmth that calms the shuddering in his body when he humors the idea of throwing himself at this machine so she’ll be able to escape. What surprises him further is his lack of hesitation.

He’d gladly die, if it means she’ll live.

For the first time, 4S feels no doubt in his decisions.

A2’s hand falls away as he stands up. The world spins around her and her lungs greedily fill with air as if those visions were real. She tries to force herself up as well, to not just let 4S attempt to fight this thing off by himself, but her legs give out halfway. Curses die in her throat, coming out as strained grunts and coughs.

Why doesn’t he run?! He’s clearly outmatched by whatever this half made machine is!

She fights to pull herself to one knee and hisses at him to not be an idiot, but time seems to stop as he looks back at her with sad green eyes and says…

“A2...thank you...for giving meaning to my life…”

Her chest seizes up and suddenly it becomes nearly impossible for her to breathe. The last time she heard those words, she lost her closest and dearest friend. A void opens on her stomach as the memories replay in her mind over and over and over until it all melts into reality. Number 4’s face and 4S’ bleed together into one amalgam as the exact same event play out in front of her.

But she will not allow this to happen again. Not while she can still fight.

A2 grits her teeth and rises to her full height. In a movement too fast for even herself to perceive, she reaches one hand out and grabs 4S by the back of his jacket and throws him behind her in the same motion. He crashes to the ground with a yelp and skids another yard before collapsing in a heap.

Power surges through her body enough for bolts of red energy to spark from her body. Her long dormant berserker function roars to life as easily as the day she was deployed, turning every limiter in her system off and letting anger and hate drive her once more. A great flat sword materializes in her hand at her will.

4S can all but watch in horror as A2 strides up to the machine creature.

“A-...Two…” he chokes, “Don’t…”

Her image shimmers in the red light of B-mode, leaving an afterimage of her form with each step she takes. The very air around her seems to crackle with the power she’s been restraining since the fall of the tower. Heat emanates from her in steady pulses, her black box’s attempt to shed the excess energy before it overloads her systems. The recent seams in her skin unravel, melting little by little and reveal the faintly glowing carbon frame beneath.

The machine, not to be outdone by this display of power, roars and erratically smashes its growth on the ground. Untethered flaps of skin flare out behind it creating the illusion of rotting wings. With a long, anguished bellow, the growth becomes charged with its own lightning. Brilliant blue arcs leap from its body and jump across whatever conductive surface they can reach. The entire cavity becomes bathed in flickering red and blue lights as machine and android prepare to fight.

A2 slams the greatsword on the ground beside her, coating the blade red sparks, before rushing the machine head on. A trail of staggered phantoms is 4S’ only clue to her movements. Her blinding speed catches the machine by surprise, its malformed joints shifting into place just in time to block the unseen strike with its organic club. The electrified steel clashes off of a bone like structure, but A2 uses the momentum to follow through with a second and third attack.

The machine strikes A2 with its unburdened fist, landing a clean blow to her shoulder and following with a slam across the chest with the club. Again, A2 closes the space between them, this time maneuvering to its right side and slashing its legs just below the knee. It contorts its body to attack her, but she ducks out of its reach a split second before impact.

The two match each other blow for blow. A2 takes what would be crippling hit after crippling hit without so much of a pause, matching the machine’s unrelenting pattern off attack with her own. As far as 4S can tell, the battle won’t end until both combatants are dead on the beach. He needs to give A2 an advantage somehow, but there’s only so much he can do without becoming a burden on her.

“Pod…” he groans, rolling onto his stomach and holding his arm outstretched, “Prepare...hacking…”

The support unit displays a confirmation dialogue box, its way of making 4S pause and reevaluate his plan of action.

“No time...just...do it.”

A golden halo encircles his outstretched arm. He takes aim at the machine and focuses every ounce of his consciousness into breaching its mind.

“Hold on...A2…”

It takes less than a second to breach the machine’s defense systems. They’re unformed, barely functioning pieces of code that try feebly to resist him. An infant’s cry echoes through the white expanse of hacking space, mixing with the sounds of rain and waves. The further he dives the louder the cries and water become, the more crushing the air around him becomes. A sudden scream shakes him to the core, crashing several of his and its own systems before ejecting 4S from hacking space. Both 4S and the creature are forced back to blinding reality. 4S collapses to the ground, forcing his eyes to remain open to see if all of that was worth it.

The machine doesn’t seem to be fazed at all beyond staggering for a split second. It regains its balance quickly, but that moment is all A2 needs to deliver a crippling blow between its shoulders. It stumbles forward, allowing her to attack a second time. She rakes her sword down its thin spine with frightening accuracy. A spray of sick yellow spinal fluid covers A2 as the creature crumples to the ground in a heap. It screams and whimpers, as if it’s begging for mercy, but it falls on deaf ears. A2 drives her sword into the back of its neck, wrenching it back and forth to dig deeper and deeper. With a sickening crack, she tears the head from its body in one savage movement. Blood, oil, and other yellowish fluids spurt and bubble up from the severed tubes in its neck. It slumps to the ground unceremoniously, the fluids pooling beneath it before being carried away by the surf.

A2 stands above her kill, her sword still tightly gripped in her hand. Almost every seam in her skin has split open and soaks her simple clothing in blood, several places in her frame dented or fractured, and hair doused in machine fluids. 4S, immediately consumed with worry, forces himself to his feet and stumbles over to her, leaning on his pod for support.

“Here, let me-”

She looks at him with horror, and backs away.

“What? A2, what’s wrong?”

Her damaged chest rises and falls rapidly.

“Hey...hey it’s just me...A2 its me. It’s 4-”

In the blink of an eye, A2 runs. By the time 4S calls out to her, she’s already outside the wreckage and half a mile down the beach.

“....No…”

4S sits back on the ground with a long sigh. With shaking fingers, he pulls up a communication channel directly to Anemone.

“...This is 4S. I need...assistance.”

 

 

 

* * *

**Unit data obtained: Cain**

* * *

 


	2. Chapter 2

Dismantling the machine wreckage proves to be a more complicated affair than previously thought. In addition to its immense size, a large portion of the scrap is contaminated by the strange organic matter, rendering it unusable. Most of the Resistance swarms the area shortly after recovering an unconscious 4S from the wreck, along with the bizarre machine creature’s body.

He’s lucky his injuries aren’t as bad as they feel. Without the Bunker and a steady supply of new bodies and parts, the repair process takes two days. The Resistance medics and 9S work together to open up 4S and set some of his displaced components. Nothing major needs to be replaced, much to his relief, but calibrating his fine motor functions comes with a few hiccups. Something must have been knocked loose during that fight.

The moment repairs are done, 4S tears around camp asking if anyone has seen A2. He expects the repeated negative answers, but that doesn’t quell the tension building in his gut. 9S offers to help him look, but he declines. Knowing A2, she’d only be more frightened if anyone else aside from a select few went looking for her.

It isn’t unusual for A2 to disappear for a day or two, and normally 4S is happy to let her be, but this time...the way she looked at him...It doesn’t sit right. She went through something far worse than being held captive by that monster. Once he asks practically everyone at the main Resistance camp he sets out on his own.

4S searches the area near the forest castle and A2’s usual haunts. The secluded places she frequents when she needs a quiet moment to herself show no trace of her being there for a long time. No tracks, no machine corpses. Nothing. Pod 035 picks up a faint sign of activity, but it’s old and far past the forest. He’s in no condition to be tearing through the denser woods looking for someone who doesn’t want to be found.

Two more days pass before 4S returns, despondent, to the Resistance camp. Just as he suspects A2 hadn’t stopped by at all, but the improbability of it all doesn’t stop the foolish hope he had as he entered the camp. He sits on a bench in the small rest area near the jukebox, listening to the twanging of some ancient human ballad.

He doesn’t notice 9S until he sits in the spot next to him. 4S jumps a little at 9S’ sudden presence but gives him a little nod shortly after.

“Still no sign of A2?” 9S asks.

4S shakes his head, “Nothing. No trail, no signals...I’m really worried about her.”

“What she lacks in everything else she makes up for in strength,” says 9S followed by a sigh and a shudder, “She’ll be okay.”

He manages to smile a bit, “I know but...she was really shaken up by...something. I want to help her but I don’t want her to feel smothered…”

“Yeah, I know the feeling…” 9S mutters, his gaze wandering to 2B as she lifts an absurdly heavy box with ease.

4S slumps in his seat and buries his head in his hands, “I get the feeling she’d never come back if I confronted her now, but…”

“You don’t want her to end up hurting herself.”

“Yeah...She’s,” 4S sighs again, then goes quiet for a long time, “...I don’t know if she’ll come back after this one…”

A lump forms in his throat as he says that, as if the words had a physical weight to them. He didn’t want to admit to himself the possibility, but it’s time for him to be honest with himself. In his head, he believed that she would be attached to him enough for that alone to bring her back his way, but...Their relationship is a bit complicated, or ambiguous to say the least.

9S puts his arm around 4S shoulders, “Of course she’ll come back. She was on the run for...Six years, was it? That can’t be a life she wants to return to.”

“I hope you’re right, Nines.”

“Here,” 9S says as he stands up, “Why don’t you help me out today? Anemone wants me to start looking at that machine creature today. Could help you take your mind off things for a while?”

4S hesitates for a moment. The memory of that...thing he and A2 fought sends chills down his spine. He has no great desire to come face to face with its malformed corpse any time soon, but 9S does have a point.

“Sure, I can lend a hand.”

 

* * *

 

It isn’t often that the medical equipment is repurposed, even temporarily, for a task away from the main Resistance camp. With materials being as limited as they are, and without the support of another group like YorHa, they need to use whatever they can. Considering this is a major discovery when it comes to machine evolution theories, Anemone allowed for a considerable amount of tools and personnel to be devoted to this.

Unfortunately, all those tools and personnel are under the command of Jackass, so 4S and 9S wait until she throws out everyone for being incompetent and then gets distracted by one of her insane personal projects.  
The setup is reminiscent of a mad scientist’s lair in an old human story. Fitting, considering who was overseeing this. Various tools and recording equipment lie scattered without any care or reason, all surrounding a large table holding the machine’s corpse covered with a tarp.

4S and 9S spend a few minutes cleaning up and organizing their equipment while idly chatting about old times. They had rarely worked together in the field while YorHa was active, but the scanners were all fairly close friends in one way or another. Though, 4S had always been on the edge of that group, nowhere near the social butterfly that 9S was. He can’t help the twinge of sadness that creeps into his voice when he mentions his time in relative isolation while he was doing deep field reconnaissance.

“Right,” 9S begins, eager to switch gears for both their sakes, “Let’s get started.”

It takes their combined efforts to pull the tarp off of the body, sending the stench of rotting flesh billowing through the whole tent.

“Ugh!” 4S gags and covers his face, “Gods, it smells worse than it was alive.”

“I’ve never seen this kind of growth on a machine before,” 9S says as he covers his face with a clean towel and begins a preliminary scan of the corpse, “Aside from those two command units, Adam and Eve.”

“I thought those were one of a kind?”

9S shrugs, “It wouldn’t be out of the ordinary for the machines left on Earth to try and replicate past evolutionary paths. But this one is a lot different.”

As 4S begins to separate the growth on the creature’s arm from its body, he replays the encounter and the state he found A2 in his head, “I’ve never seen a machine do things like this one could. Have you seen the Pod records?”

9S shakes his head, “I haven’t had the time. Here, why don’t you start working on that piece while I go over your footage?”

With a quick wave of his hand, 4S commands Pod 035 to display a video feed for 9S.

At first, the growth appears to be just a simple mass of metal and tissue with the occasional piece of bone. Each piece of anything that isn’t soft tissue or connected to the central metal bone is carefully cut away and placed onto a tray nearby. It seems to be only random bits and pieces of machine scrap until 4S come across a strange shape underneath layers of warped muscular tissue.

Unlike the fractured and rough textures of its counterparts, this object is smooth and rounded. A few hairline splits zigzag across its surface, yet it stays together as 4S shifts it around to cut away the connective tissue surrounding it. Once most of the flesh is cut away, 4S pries the object out with a firm tug.

A smooth, diminutive skull sits in his hands, gazing at him with hauntingly vacant sockets. It bears some resemblance to a machine head. The bolts next to the optical sockets, serial numbers and machine script carved into its surface, and unique alloy betray its true nature. However, it’s eerily android in its appearance. Or rather, eerily human. A row of half formed teeth, some pointed and some blunt, deep nasal and optical cavities, and an oblong shape show more similarities to androids than any other machine.

But as 9S pointed out before, there were two machines that were vastly different from the rest not too long ago.

4S sets the skull down on the tray, next to the other tiny, misshapen bones he had extracted from the growth. A clavicle, two humeruses, six ribs, pelvis, and an assortment of vertebrae form a sickly small skeleton.

“Hey, 4S?”

A jolt runs down his spine as he snaps back to reality, “Yeah...yeah what’s up?”

9S glances at the grim display on the tray before continuing, “I finished going over your footage.”

“Oh. Well did you see anything odd? I mean, besides everything.”

9S pulls up a stool and takes a seat near the creature’s stomach, “At first,” he begins as he starts a scan of the machine’s body, “I thought that it was an attempted copy of the Adam and Eve units, and looking at the…what you’ve extracted so far, that theory is partially right.”

4S raises an eyebrow, “...But?”

“But…” he looks down and takes a deep breath, “But there’s more in line with another machine I’ve encountered.”

“What?”

“When I handed over that enemy data back when...back a while ago, there was one bit of data that I didn’t give you because it was just…” he takes a deep breath and shudders, “I didn’t want to think it was real.”

As much as 4S’ curiosity burns in his head, he doesn’t press 9S further. The discomfort is visible in the way his eyes dart around to anything, how his eyebrows knit together, and how he grips the edge of the table.

“Listen, 4S…” he begins after a bout of tense silence, “If-...When A2 comes back, if she seems...off, be careful. When 2B and I fought that thing in the sewers, something...happened to her, and when we got back to the Resistance camp she…” Again, 9S shudders and blushes, though that might have been 4S’ imagination, “Just be careful, okay?”

4S nods, “Of course. Don’t worry about me.”

“Good.” he sighs again, “...Let’s take apart the rest of this thing. I’ll give you the enemy data when we’re done.”

 

* * *

 

A2 knows she shouldn’t feel this deep shame as she lingers in the shadows of the forest zone. Just a year ago, the thought of returning somewhere she ran from was insane; now, she’s slinking back to the castle as if she’s done something wrong.

She hasn’t done anything wrong...right?

No, of course not. She just needed some time away from...everything.

…

Gods, she was such a coward.

It wasn’t just that, in the days since the fight on the beach, it’s felt like something was itching just inside her skull or under her skin. She’s lapsed into old self destructive habits as well, like picking at the dermal seams 4S spent so much time on.

4S…

Thinking about how worried he must be about her, what he might have gone through when looking for her, or what might happen when she comes back...It makes her stomach coil like a spring so tightly she starts shivering. A2 is no stranger to guilt, but it has been some time since the feeling caused a physical reaction in her.

As the crumbling facade of the castle comes into view A2 plays with the thought of turning back. Could she really face him after all this? Would things just...go back to normal? Did she even want that? She doesn’t know what she wants. Hell, she doesn’t even know if she wants to take another step forward. Her legs lock in place, and aside from a light shiver that runs through her body, she stands so still that a little boar comes up to her and sniffs at her foot. She shoos the boar away with a gentle kick, sending the little animal squealing back to the safety of the woods.

A2 takes a deep breath. No use delaying the inevitable any longer. She forces herself to walk. Just, one foot in front of the other, one step at a time. There isn’t any reason to be afraid. That doesn’t stop her from being terrified, though. She shuts her eyes and focuses on the sound of her footsteps on the crumbling stone pathway.

She expects 4S to come rushing down to her the moment she reaches the castle steps, but she only hears the soft songs of the birds that make their homes in the trees and tiny crevices in the walls. There isn’t even the echoes of him running errands, the groans of his jerry rigged terminals, or Pod 035’s made up language.

“Must be resting…” A2 mutters to herself.

Sure enough, there’s signs of activity through her home but 4S is nowhere to be found. The stray piles of supplies that she usually leaves lying around the entry hallway are all cleaned up and organized into bins and shelves nearby.

She meanders through the castle like a spectre, floating from room to room with no real goal in mind. Not looking for anything, not searching for a goal, just wandering. She flips through books in the library, accidentally knocks over some dusty suits of armor, and fiddles with anything she can to find to keep her mind from running a mile a minute.

It isn’t long, however, for those distractions to run out and eventually A2 finds herself at the threshold of her small bedroom. Like the rest of the castle, all of her stuff is rearranged and cleaned. Even her bed is made, but it isn’t the bed itself that disturbs her. Perhaps disturbed isn’t the right word, but the neatly folded set of clothes similar to the torn rags she wears now makes her feel...strange.

She rolls the cotton of the shirt in her fingers. Exactly the same as the one she wears now, albeit not torn and bloodied. It smells a bit musty, like it’s been sitting out for a few days. Her chest tightens a little, but she changes into the new clothes regardless. They stick to her grimy skin and torn seams. She mentally kicks herself for not washing first thing once she got home.

...Home…

The realization hits her like a punch from a goliath. She has a home. Something to come back to, a safe place to let her guard down and relax.

Someone to…

She curls her hand into a fist, bunching up the fabric of her shirt. A weird tightness forms in her throat and chest it dawns on her that she’s being watched.

With wide, wary eyes, she turns back to the doorway to see 4S just...standing there. Watching her. He looks surprisingly calm, despite everything, but there’s a tension in his face that even someone as unobservant as A2 can pick up on.

A2 looks at the floor, suddenly far more interested in the brickwork than him.

“...Hey,” she says, the word catching in her throat.

His green eyes dart about, studying every detail about her that he could as quickly as possible. He lingers on the fresh wounds that begin to stain her new shirt, the way her shoulders slump with exhaustion, and the weariness in her own expression.

With great gentleness, he speaks, “...Are you hurting?”

“I’m fine-...” A2 stops herself short as a sharp pain shoots through her arm, “...I’ve been better.”

4S approaches her slowly, his dark eyebrows knitting together, “Here, let me help.”

The moment his hands touch her she flinches away, causing 4S to do the same. There’s hesitation in his grip as he lightly pulls her towards the bed and sits her down on it. A2 could swear she feels his hands shaking.

His fingers ghost over her injuries and torn skin seam as he takes stock of what ails her physically. He mutters his findings to himself while A2 stares at their feet, her head hanging low. She lets him move her arms and body as he cleans the dried blood that’s caked around her skin seams.

“Does…” 4S says, his touch lingering on her arms, “Does anything hurt internally? Any pain when you move?”

A2 shakes her head, “Just a bit sore.”

4S nods once, then allows a tense silence to fall between them. Neither one looks at the other, and neither one wants to think about why.

After moments where nothing but the stale breeze passes between them, A2 speaks up.

“I think...I’m just gonna lie down for a bit.”

“Alright. Call for me if you need anything...Okay?”

“Yeah...Of course.”

As she gets settled into bed, 4S allows himself a quick glance backwards before leaving her to her thoughts.

 

* * *

 

For a week they do this dance. With the exception of grafting new skin onto her wounds, 4S and A2 avoid each other. Sometimes, she sees him in the corner of her eye only for him to brush past with only a mumbled apology or for him to duck back out of her view. When she asks him about it during the hour or so they see each other, he waves if off as a coincidence or just making sure she’s okay. The cadence and waver in his voice tips her off to his real motive. He is checking on her, but he’s making sure she hasn’t run off again.

She can’t shake the guilt, something that seems like a constant for her. It starts eating away at her nerves and her resolve. How long would things continue like this? Would they stay this way until they both drift apart? How much longer would it be until she’s alone again. The visions and the fear from that machine creep back into her chest and constrict her lungs. It’s such a similar feeling to...before. When she watched Number 4 smile at her one last time.

Only this time she can control the outcome.

It’s much less dire, of course. 4S is in no danger of dying in a fiery explosion, but A2 feels as if _she’s_ going to explode if things don’t go back to the comfortable and mundane. She knows 4S won’t come to her, he’s too cautious. He knows she’s skittish when it comes to...feelings, and for that she’s grateful. He’ll let her come to him when she’s ready to talk, and it might be the point of no return very soon. Whether she’s ready or not, she has to do this.

Around this time of day 4S is tinkering with one project or another in his room. Normally A2 leaves him to his work, but this is something akin to an emergency. Besides, he’s probably not working on something important or dangerous. He has a more level head on his shoulders than 9S.

A2 hesitates at the wooden door to his room, grinding her teeth as she fights with herself. It’s absurd, she already has her hand on the door and now she thinks about backing down? She’s fought with worse things than her own feelings and memories. This would be nothing. 4S is reasonable, he won’t freak out at her about any of this.

Her knock on the door echoes through the stone halls, and the few seconds before she hears 4S’ footsteps on the other side feel like an eternity. The door swings inward, revealing a grease-stained 4S staring at her with bewildered green eyes.

“A2? What’s wrong, is everything okay?” he asks, brushing his hair out of his eyes.

“I’m fine. I just…” she sighs and shuffles her way into his room, “Do you have a second to talk?”

His eyebrows shoot up, then return to normal a moment later, “Of course.”

4S gestures for her to sit on his bed (more of a cot in truth) while he pulls the chair from his workbench over and wipes his hands and face off with a rag. She pulls her knees close to her chest and curls up as tight as she can. Something to quell the shivers that emanate from her gut.

“I wanted to talk about the shit that happened with that weird machine…” she mumbles, avoiding eye contact, “I just...don’t know where to start.”

He watches her expressions shift from anger, to sadness, and back within the span of a split second, “Maybe...When I found you, you looked like you were in some kind of trance. What was that? What was happening to you?”

A2 winces at the memory, “The damn thing hijacked me. Made me see things...feel things that weren’t there. It made me…,” she shudders, “It must have messed with every sensor that still works.”

4S shuffles closer to her, “What did it make you see?”

“Its…,” she groans and buries her face in her hands, “It...It made me see Number 4. The whole squad. They…,”

He takes one of her hands in his, “It’s okay…” he mutters gently and rubs her hand.

“They tore me apart.” she says in a lifeless voice, her eyes glassy and unfocused, “The visions tore me apart piece by piece. They drowned me, beat me, blamed…” she can’t stop the tears from welling up, “They blamed their deaths on me...and they’re right.”

“A2…”

“They were right. If I wasn’t a coward, if I fought with them-”

“You’d be dead too, A2.” 4S says sternly, holding her hand just a bit tighter, “You’d be dead along with them.”

“But-”

“No. I won’t sit by and let you blame yourself anymore for what happened in the past. I don’t care what that machine made you see or made you think you saw, but none of that was your fault and none of them blame you for what happened!”

A2 opens her mouth and shuts it just as quickly as she tries to formulate some sort of counter. She tries to draw her hands close to her body but 4S’ grip remains strong and holds them in place. His green eyes hold her gaze even as she tries to look at anything but him. Anything to avoid showing weakness, anything to not break down.

She fails spectacularly.

Tears pool in her eyes and spill over within seconds. Her synthetic muscles give out all at once as she collapses in a heap in 4S’ arms. Brutal, silent sobs rip through her body with such intensity that she begins to shake and shudder. 4S holds onto her as tight as he can without hurting her. He rubs her shoulders and back with a soothing yet heavy hand, while his other hand combs through her short hair. Gentle refermations of her safety and soft whispers seem to calm her quaking body after a moment. She grips onto his shirt as if it’s the only thing keeping her afloat.

A2’s breathing starts to even out and at first 4S thinks that she’s beginning to wind down, but then her quiet sniffling turns to growls. Her nails dig into the skin of 4S’ chest, and 9S’ warning starts to play over and over in his head. Despite himself, fear begins to worm its way through his gut. A2 is strong. Far stronger than he is. If something went wrong, if something possessed her to, she could kill him by barely lifting a finger.

Yet he takes hold of her trembling hands and the low snarls in the back of her throat stop. Her hands tremble in his, and her wide, fearful eyes let him know that none of that was intentional. 4S leans forward and rests his forehead on hers with her hands still clasped tightly in his.

“Hey, look at me,” he whispers, “A2 look at me.”

She tries to look at anything but him to no avail. Everything in her body tells her to run away. Get away from these bad feelings and shitty memories and hide in the wilderness until she breaks down for good. But she doesn’t want that. She doesn’t want to leave him, she doesn’t want to be alone again. She can’t be alone again.

Slowly, her eyes meet his. In her head she prepares for the inevitable flashbacks those deep green eyes of his give her, but instead of seeing the eyes of Number 4, his face remains his own.

“You’re okay, A2,” he mutters to her, “I promise I’m not going to let anything hurt you.”

She snorts and rubs at her puffy red eyes, “Idiot, I should be protecting you.”

“There she is,” 4S breaks out in a smile, “There’s that brash moron.”

“Shut up.”

4S gets caught in their moment kisses A2 on the cheek, just beneath her eye. This isn’t the first time they’ve kissed, not by a long shot, but it is the first time that it’s felt so...natural? He supposes that’s the word for it. In the past it had been bouts of passion that broke free of restraints on both their sides, but it never went further than that. This time the simple gesture caused a comforting warmth to bloom in his chest. Judging by A2’s tired smile, she felt something similar.

“A2…” he begins, their closeness loosening his desire to hold back what’s on his mind, “I know that...I know I’m not Number 4 but-”

She pulls back from him, her brows knitting together, “Stop.”

“What?”

“Stop comparing yourself to her,” an icy determined glare warps her expression. For the first time in weeks, strength returns to her, “Number 4 is gone. You’re not her, you’re never going to be, and....I don’t want you to be. I want you to be you.”

4S tries to blink away the tears, “It only took a near death experience, huh?”

“Oh, shut up!” she shouts. She slugs him in the shoulder playfully and puffs out her cheeks after he catches her face in his hands again. “You’re an ass.”

“Hey, you’re not doing anything to stop me,” teases 4S. He kisses her cheek once again.

He immediately regrets saying that. In a show of speed and strength, A2 pulls him into a tight hug and flings them both onto the bed. 4S struggles, but he’s no match for the combat model’s strength. She holds him down as they laugh at themselves and the absurd turn their heavy conversation took. A2 digs her knuckles into his scalp to the sounds of his protesting as he flails his arms and legs in a wild attempt to break free.

Eventually she lets him go, the fatigue of an outburst of emotion catching up with her body. She fails to suppress a yawn and 4S chuckles at her sudden exhaustion. He rolls off of her and curls up against her side as she settles into bed.

“Tired?” he asks.

A2 nods, “Mhm...Haven’t been sleeping well.”

“Okay.” 4S starts to sit up, “I’ll let you rest.”

He’s about to stand up from the bed, when A2’s hand grabs onto his wrist and tugs him back down.

“Huh?”

“S…,” she seems to choke on her own words and looks uncharacteristically vulnerable, “Can you...stay?”

“...Of course,” he says with a warm smile.

 

* * *

 

Sleeping with A2 is...a full body experience. 4S had his expectations, sweetly snuggled up against her and curled in her arms. Or her in his, either way would work for him. Instead, he’s treated to erratic movements, constant tossing and turning, and nearly being shoved off of the bed multiple times. Yet despite this, they end up in a semi-comfortable position for both of them, although 4S believes it was entirely by accident. Sharing a bed was, in truth, something they would have to learn how to do.

4S is unsure how much time has actually passed by the time he starts to wake up, though it couldn’t have been more than a few hours judging by the fact that his Pod’s alarm hadn’t gone off yet. A2 remains asleep, wrapped around him with her chest pressing against his back. Her breathing is light and steady, and tickles at the back of his neck.

She’s so...warm. The way her hands mold to the shape of his chest and stomach…

A deep, tightening pain in his gut makes him flinch, and brings him to agonizing consciousness. Glancing down at the odd bulge in the sheets, just between his legs, reveals source of his discomfort.

What a useless feature… 4S muses to himself.

Carefully, 4S shuffles out of A2’s arms, doing all he can to avoid waking her and to avoid letting her hands drift further down. He winces with each movement, even the fabric of his shorts rubbing against his erection sends jolts up his spine.

The moment he’s free of A2’s hold, he rises from the bed centimeter by centimeter so as not to shift the ratty mattress too much. All he has to do is make it out of the room without waking her and make his way to somewhere secluded to take care of this issue. Of course he could always attempt to sleep it off, but with how awake he is at the moment he doesn’t think it’ll be possible.

It’s only when success is nearly in his grasp that it is snatched away from him.

“Hey...Where’r you going?” A2’s grumbles in a raspy voice heavy with sleep.

Synthetic blood rushes up to his face one moment and then back down the next, “Uh...J-just going to stretch my legs a bit.”

“...What’s wrong. You sound nervous.”

Oh , of all the times, why did it have to be now that she learns to be observant?

“I’m fine,” 4S tries to maintain an even level to his voice.

“Why are you standing all hunched over like that?”

Her questions are just as pointed and cutting as her swords. 4S sighs. He always underestimates her intelligence, seeing as she’s not only a prototype model but a combat model as well. They’re not exactly known for being as capable as scanners when it comes to...really anything that isn’t killing. Yet she’s pinpointed exactly what he’s trying to hide. The heavy, almost icy tone to her voice convinces him that she doesn’t need him to explain his current state, but instead beckons him to come forward about it.

“Come here.”

Her sudden confidence makes him shiver.

4S turns back to her and returns to the bed with slow, plodding steps. The way her icy blue eyes roam over his body make him feel exposed, naked, despite being fully clothed. There’s a shift in her expression as he approaches though. At first she looks at him like an old world predator eyes a slab of meat, but as he sits on the edge of the bed the confidence falls away piece by piece.

“A2…”

His breath is heavy in his throat as he reaches out to cup her face in one of his hands. Her warmth is infectious, her breath just as heavy as his. Despite the way her eyes hold his with an intensity he’s rarely seen outside of battle, he can feel the subtle way she shivers with each breath.

“Are you...sure?” he asks, hoping that he’s understanding what all of this means. In the past she’s been reluctant to even touch at moments, why is she suddenly doing this?

Was this what 9S meant by strange behavior?

A2 nods, “Yeah...But I um...How does...this...start?”

A wave of relief hits him. She’s not under some strange control or in a damaged frame of mind. He wouldn't be able to live with himself if he took advantage of her like this.

4S smiles, “Just follow my lead, okay?”

Their kiss starts out tender, soft even. A2 recoils back, but leans into it only moments later. Her hands start to wander around their bodies as if she’s not sure what to do with them. Without breaking their admittedly awkward kiss, 4S takes her hands in his and places one on his neck, and the other in his hair. Her fingers immediately hook into his curly hair and pull him closer than he thought possible. Heat rises in his gut once more, spurring him to push things further faster.

4S leans back against the bed’s headboard and pulls A2 onto his lap. For a minute or so, things continue much in the same way as they had before. Position aside, their kissing is rather tame. Chaste even. Simply savoring each other’s warmth and the way their mouths move in tandem. But there’s a desperate edge to A2, in the way she moves and her labored breathing. She wants more, she needs more. She just doesn’t know how to take it.

So, 4S parts his lips and in turn hers. With his tongue he tests her bit by bit, prodding at her lips, her teeth, her tongue, whatever he can reach. Her hand tightens in his hair to the point of discomfort, yet it doesn’t bother 4S in the slightest. In fact it seems to intensify just how good everything feels right now. A tiny whimper escapes from the back of his throat as she tugs on his hair a second time.

A2 suppresses a grunt, or a moan, or something in her throat. She grinds against him so slowly that 4S isn’t sure if she realizes what she’s doing. Carefully, he returns her motions, raising his hips to meet hers beat for beat in a clumsy rhythm. Fingernails dig into the skin of his neck when his teeth scrape against her lips, so he breaks their kiss to gently bite her lower lip.

She gasps, her breath ghosting over his face for a moment before he leans in and nibbles at the underside of her jaw. Another gasp as he slides one hand beneath her thin shirt and traces the outline of her muscles and lines of carbon plates barely concealed by synthetic flesh. A2 doesn’t normally shake in situations outside of life threatening combat, but her body trembles beneath his touch.

There’s a strange shift in A2’s movements when 4S begins to leave small bite marks down her neck and to her shoulder. He can feel the thundering of her pulse quicken as he clumsily grabs at her breasts. Between the blood roaring in his ears and the amplified sound of their bodies, he doesn’t hear the low rumbling from A2’s chest until it’s too late.

Her mouth traps his suddenly, pushing him back until his head smacks against the headboard. His shirt and shorts are all but torn from his body by A2’s desperate hands. The cool air of the castle makes him shiver all over. A groan catches in his throat but is quickly silenced by A2 climbing on top of him further. She practically towers over him now, ravaging his mouth and hungrily grinding down on his now exposed cock.

Like the flip of a switch, A2 goes from unsure to ravenous. Both her hands tangle themselves in his hair, holding him down and kissing up and down his neck. He feels the scrape of her teeth against one of the taught tendons in his neck once, twice, and then they clamp down around it. An intense jolt runs through his whole body. His back arches, hips thrust up, and a sharp whimper escapes him. She bites him again, worrying the skin of his neck between her teeth and eliciting more moans and cries from him.

4S isn’t sure when the tears start to form in his eyes, but his body becomes so overwhelmed with the pain and pleasure that it's the only reflex he can manage. He gulps down lungfuls of air the moment A2 pulls back off of him just a bit, removing the pressure from his chest. There’s something in A2’s eyes, something that 4S can’t place. Her eyes are dark, pupils blown wide and lids half closed. He’s never seen this look from her before and it makes him feel...strange. There’s fear, that one is easy to identify, but there’s also...excitement. His gut coils as A2 shuffles out of her tank top and shorts.

This was really happening, wasn’t it…

4S always pictured this being more planned and careful, and without the fear for his life that nags in the back of mind. Of course he wants this, and he knows A2 wants this.

But did he want this to go so fast?

A2 tugs him up to her lips by his hair.

Oh god yes he wants this.

He moans against her mouth and ruts his hips into hers. There’s a brief but powerful sensation that shoots up his spine when his cock presses against the space between her legs. A2 must have felt something similar as she groans against his mouth. One of her hands rakes down his stomach and grips onto his cock far too tightly.

“Ah!!”

A2 recoils back, that dark look in her eyes fading instantly, “Shit! Are you okay?!”

“Yeah-...Yeah I’m okay…” he pants, “Just...gentle. Be gentle with...that.”

When that half-lidded look doesn’t come back immediately, 4S pulls her down for a quick kiss and takes her hand in his. He guides her hand back down to his cock and starts to move it up and down as slowly as possible at first. Once she gains her confidence back his hand falls away only to rise back up again to tangle in her hair.

Most scanners do this sort of thing by themselves, but oh god does it feel so much better when someone else does it to him. Especially someone he cares about. He does his best not to jerk his hips into her hand too fast, and the exertion of self control makes him pant and sweat. In response A2 strokes him longer, harsher, pushing him to the point of pain again. He throws his head back against the pillows and lets out a long, loud moan that he’s sure he heard A2 laugh quietly at.

There’s a spot that A2 ghosts her thumb over that makes him almost scream, and the tight coils in his stomach threaten to unwind right then and there. It’s only through gritting his teeth and focusing on anything but how fucking good it all feels that he’s able to not come.

“A2…,” he says in between heavy pants, “A2, please…”

“What.”

He shoots her a scowl, though it isn’t as intimidating as he’d like since he’s blushing and sweaty, “What do you mean what,” he growls.

She smirks at him, that heavy, dark-eyed look returns, and she sinks down onto his cock without warning.

“F-Fuck!” he shouts, “A2!”

She hisses through her teeth as she adjusts to having him inside her. 4S is about to ask her if she’s okay but the words catch in his throat when she shifts her hips. He isn’t sure if his visual processors are failing or if A2 managed to hack him somehow, but he swears that stars and sparks fly across his eyes. He throws his head back into the pillows again and lets out a moan that’s much louder than he intends it to be.

“Where-...” 4S tries to say as she raises herself off of him and slides back down, “Where did you- Haa….Learn-...”

“What,” responds A2 in between pants, “You think your-...ngh...Your stash of h-...human mating behaviors are...Haaa...Secret?”

“Well...I did until now.”

A2 laughs a breathy laugh that sends waves of strange pleasure through both of their bodies, “Next time, label that file as something boring.”

“Ugh, just shut up and fuck me.”

They find their rhythm, clumsily and slowly, but eventually they fall in sync with each other. Every time A2 raises herself off of his cock, he pulls himself back so that all but the very tip remains in, only to slam their hips back together. Each time, A2 crushes her body against his harder and harder until he’s afraid that she might break his pelvic chassis. Well, not for long anyway. Once the wet and the hot overtake his mind again, the soreness fades into the background.

4S meets her beat for beat, thrust for thrust. He tries new angles and methods to try and force her to cry out in pleasure, much like he does. It’s...strangely awkward to him, to be the only one making noise. A rigid spot on the front of her walls makes her groan and gasp so he aims for that again and again and again, but it all falls to the wayside once his pace reaches a feaverish, desperate peak.

His hands latch onto her hips, fingernails digging into the curve of her waist and giving him the leverage he needs to thrust his cock deeper and deeper into her. Her hands grip his wrists, her chest heaves with each labored breath. The way her walls constrict around his dick lets him know that they’re both within sight of the end. For now.

4S’ mind devolves into simple lines of code. Single words, simple actions, and blinding speed. Anything higher than repeating the actions that bring him and A2 this intense pleasure are tossed aside.

Hunger. Need.

More.

More

M o r e

M o re moremoremoremoremoremoreMORe.

Suddenly, A2 gasps and grabs his shoulders so hard that he’s shaken from his stupor. Her whole body heaves with each breath she takes. 4S swears he can hear her teeth grinding against each other and the wanton moans she desperately tries to suppress. If he wasn’t consumed with primal repetition he might have tried to edge those sounds out of her, but it’s all he can do to keep himself from coming each time he thrusts into her.

4S slows to a crawl, letting himself linger inside of her. It takes all of his willpower to pull out once, twice, and on the third he can hold back no longer. All of the tension in his gut releases as A2 lets out this long breathy sound. She’s still holding the moans back, but he can’t contain the moan that echoes through their room. Something in the back of his mind tells him he should be embarrassed, but he could care less right now. He revels in the circuit-melting euphoria for as long as he can before he has to breathe and bring himself back to reality.

A2 looks down at him with dark, half-lidded eyes. Her face, flushed red, covered in sweat, is hidden by the white hair that clings to her skin.

He’s never seen anything more fascinating.

As she gracelessly flops onto the bed beside him, he can’t help but feel a twinge of disgust at the white, sticky mess that covers the bed and parts of their bodies. Maybe it’s a quirk with scanner models, but he hates being dirty.

He nudges A2 in the ribs with an elbow, and she cracks one eye open at him in a tired, half-hearted glare.

“We should clean up,” he says.

A2 just scoffs, and rolls over on her side, taking as many blankets as she can with her, “If you can carry me, go for it.”

4S sighs, and lays back against the sweat stained pillows.

He’s never been more infatuated with her.


End file.
